Rise of Mystique
by Cassandra or Bonkers pehaps
Summary: The descent of Raven Darkholme. The past and what he never got to see. Please comment andor critique


Prologue: And in the Beginning 

Monster, evil, insane, lethal and without a soul. Names tacked onto her without thought, valid conclusions, painfully obvious to all. They hate and fear her, for she is without morals, without the principles and standards that they think make world work. They mutter and they curse, meaningless words that bounce off her as they would off a wall. She sees what they do not, thinks and acts on what she knows, always calculating and planning the next move. Insults have become common, and they no longer carry a sting. She is alone and does not care, basking in her powers, always trying to be strong. She forgets, and they do not know.

She was born in a time before shattered hopes, before the pain, suffering, and vivid change wrought by two world wars. She entered a world of arrogance and pride, where country and strength were held in highest esteem. She was born to the name of Raven Darkholme, a little girl on outer edges of a grand, once-powerful, crumbling empire, one that thought too highly and refused to see the weakness jutting from it's bones. She was born into a mask that hid her true form: fair skin and orange hair, the gentle eyes of infancy. A perfectly normal girl.

And then she began to grow. Little legs began to walk and crawl, mouth uttering it's first sounds and words, eyes looking up in wonder at the world. The innocence of childhood, the short-lived time of happiness, bliss. A toddler tugging at her mother's skirt, smiles and hiccupping laughter. Everything was pure.

Then the darkness came. Brought forth in the guise of a tall, well mannered man. The gate into a world of pain and lies. No proper training, no position of particular importance, no great impact on the world; His façade was perfect nonetheless. 'So good with the children' they exclaimed, unusual for a man of that age. Children and cooking were woman's work and responsibility. He managed to rise above that, a calming, helpful force, charismatic and happy, never failing to bring forth gales of laughter from a crowd. Lies, all lies, and she was afraid.

'Silly girl' they scolded, pushed her forth. They told her to ignore her shyness, and so came the beginning of the end. Night descended and the children were put to sleep, the smoky, heady noises from downstairs but a distant dream. Hazel eyes focused on the ceiling, swirly patterns, counting each and every crack. Little girl struggling, writhing and flailing, unable to scream. His calming words had no effect. Hazel eyes slowly changing, brighter and brighter, skin turning darker as sweat mingled. The child turning into a monster. He noticed, and was repulsed.

Quick fixing of the clothes, sheets thrown back into place. Then came the shouts, the sound of feet pounding up old creaky step, the screams. A girl's body wracked by hysterical sobbing, a demon lying on the bed, screams and screams, panic, the sound of retching, hours passing in a dull haze. Crucifixes and hurried, desperate praying, his eyes boring into hers, incredible fear, shaking, silent tears. The sun was well into the sky before she came back, little Raven, normal girl again.

They watched her with an air of thinly veiled disgust, caution, worry from then on, furtive glances they thought she couldn't see. The girl, for her part, dressed in her loosest clothing, donning her mother's shawls, trying to conceal herself, make herself invisible. She felt dirty, disgusting, unclean, cursed, a demon, unreal . Innocence shattered, she looked and acted older than her years.

It wasn't over. Not then and not ever. The hell, once opened, would never disappear. The boys playing, trying to tug off her shawl in the streets. Skin turning blue as they looked on in horror, the creature running away from the shouts. Her father screaming at her for some small transgression, and she'd shift once again.

Once a month became once a week, then once a day. It became harder and harder to go back, and they were all so afraid. Horrified to have raised a monster, they would not call a priest, would not speak of what was obvious, what all could see. When she began to be the demon more often than a little girl they locked her in her room, meals slipped in twice a day.

Forlornly, she sat in the room now her prison, staring for hours at her darkened blue skin, her glowing yellow eyes, the hair that seemed unchanged. The girl felt worthless, terrified, utterly alone. Time passed and she stopped trying to look past the grime that covered the windows, began to thrive on the isolation. She was always blue by then, her older form but a memory, a dream. The voices were but a distraction, the presence of others a petty annoyance.

She brought forth fear, and it was in that fear that Raven Darkholme found her first taste of power, the obsession that would come to rule her life. Her dreams were filled with blood and pain and horror, vivid memories she didn't want to see. The realization came suddenly, the overwhelming urge to escape. A loaf of uncut bread taken from the kitchen table, a think slab of cheese in a bag and she ran out the back door.

The girl didn't think it would matter, that her family would care about her absence, and she was correct. No search parties were sent, no calls for her through the streets, no distraught sobbing to mark her departure. She made her way through the shadowed alleys and streets as if they were her home, and eventually this became true. She thrived in the darkness, and slowly her past began to fade, dimmer and dimmer by the day, unimportant compared to the present.

Then she learned that she could shift into others, to change her body at will and imitate the world she'd for so long been only able to observe. It was a little boy the first time, slightly younger than herself and with a thin, gaunt frame. A sense of glee overwhelmed her as she realized the repercussions of this new found power: She was free, the door of the cage that had surrounded her finally open. She could enter the world and blend in, no longer having to hide, no longer a disgusting creature in all their eyes. Power, the seemingly limitless possibilities that came with I, flooded her mind. Raven Darkholme stepped into another world, never to return to the one she'd left behind.


End file.
